


Something To Remember You By

by Yavannie



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hints of Plot, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki tries to convince Verity to sleep with him. She's having none of it, until one night...</p><p>Taking very little of the canon timeline of AoA into consideration. Contains rough but completely consensual sex. Written because this is one of my favourite ships, and <em>someone</em> has to write the smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something To Remember You By

_Sometime in the future, or in between, or outside the timeline._

 

* * *

The first time he suggests it, she thinks he’s joking. They’re watching something on TV that she can vaguely enjoy, at least filtered through the haze of a good wine, and then it comes, out of nowhere.

“We should make love.”

For a fraction of a second, she flushes cold all over. Then she goes hot, feels her treacherous complexion starting to redden. Then she realizes that he can’t possibly be serious.

“You mean fuck?” she asks, as calmly as she can manage. She grabs a handful of jelly beans from the bowl on the table.

“Don’t be crude, Verity,” Loki chides her.

She pauses with a lemon flavored bean halfway to her mouth. “It’s better than ‘make love’. What are you, from the 20’s?”

“No, but I was there to see them.”

_Oh yeah_. “Nevermind.” The jelly bean is banana, not lemon, and she grimaces, then has another one to get rid of the taste. 

“Well, whatever you want to call it, we still should.”

Verity turns to him. He looks expectantly at her, like a dog waiting for a treat. His eyes twinkle mischievously, and she grits her teeth in anger. She crams the rest of the candy into her mouth and stares at the TV. _What an asshole_.

 

* * *

 

The second time, his body betrays him. They’re hiding, squeezed inside a tiny alcove in the shadows of a hallway in the keep of some villain or other. They have to be absolutely quiet, because while Loki has woven some magic to make himself less visible (“True invisibility is very hard to achieve”), they can still be heard. She’s with her back against the wall, and he’s pressed up against her, acting as a shield, so close that his chest pushes against her shoulder, his breath hot against her hair. She squirms a little, and her thigh touches his. Then a door opens, not far away, and he nearly crushes her with his body. She holds her breath and the seconds pass while they listen to the steps, moving ever closer. And then she feels it against her hip. _It_. He adjusts himself slightly, and it’s gone. She looks up at him, and he makes a desperately apologetic face. Then he smiles briefly, as if remembering something, and in a heartbeat, Loki assumes her female form, then pushes close again. 

Verity spends the next few minutes with a pair of very shapely breasts squashed against the side of her neck.

“Sorry about that,” she says once they’re running again. With Loki, it seems there’s always running involved.

“It’s okay,” says Verity automatically, panting slightly.

They round a corner and Loki crouches down, motioning to Verity to do the same. “So I wasn’t making you uncomfortable? In that case I’m not sorry.”

“Well…” Verity has to think a little before she replies. “It wasn’t exactly the optimal time and place.”

Loki grins at her. “Name a time and a place.”

And then they hear the sounds of dogs in the distance, and before she can reply, they’re running again.

 

* * *

 

The third time, he’s drunk. It takes Asgardian stuff to get him this stupid, and he’s had plenty. He’s laid his head down on the kitchen table and is aimlessly tracing sparkly patterns on the wooden surface.

“Make love to me, Verity,” he says.

“Language, Loki,” she says warningly. 

“Have sex, fuck, bang, whatever you want to call it. Let’s just do it.”

“You wouldn't be able to get it up.”

“I wouldn’t have to,” says Loki, sits up and snaps his fingers. Now she’s all shampoo ad hair and perfect curves.

“I’m not going to have sex with someone whose boobs are better than mine. Also, you’re drunk.”

She pouts, then changes back. “Come now,” he says. “I’m not _that_ drunk.”

“Go to bed.”

“All right. If you join me.” He winks, and Verity groans. “Have you ever slept with a god?” he asks then.

“What kind of a stupid ass question is that?”

“A rhetorical one. My point is that you should try it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be the best sex you’ve ever had!” he says, throwing his hands out. “You can tell if I’m lying so you know I’m not.”

She picks up the half-empty bottle in front of Loki and goes to pour it in the sink. “Of course you’re not,” she says while the wine glugs down the drain. She has to lean away from the fumes, and silently wishes the sewer rats a happy death. “I’ve heard the same thing from, oh, I don’t know, fifteen other guys. They weren’t lying either.”

He stares at her for a few moments, then narrows his eyes. He points a finger at her. “Yeah, they may have _thought_ they were good, but I _know_ ,” he says, then looks smug.

“Go jerk off, Loki.”

 

* * *

 

The fourth time, he's jealous. Lorelei is in the kitchen, making drinks and probably secret calls, because she’s taking a long time. 

“Are you seeing someone?” he asks casually. Too casually.

“No,” she says. Then she frowns. “Why?”

He shrugs, then looks away, chewing his lip. “Do you like anyone then?” he asks after a while.

“What do you want, Loki?” 

He glances towards the kitchen, then leans closer. “Why do you keep rejecting me?” he asks in a hushed voice.

She snaps so suddenly even she is surprised. “Why do you keep bitching about it? You can fuck whoever you like, so go do it.”

“What does it look like I’m trying to do?”

“And what’s so special about me?” She knows what’s special about her, and from the look on his face, she knows she’s on to something. “Only it’s not about me, is it? No, I get it. I see you, Loki, just the way you are, and you want to know if you can dazzle me. You want to know if you’re that good of a fuck. What do you care that I’ve never been able to have a normal relationship, that with half the guys I’ve been with I’ve had to bite my tongue real hard not to punch them in the face. The other half weren’t so lucky. Do you know how good a one night stand is, on average, for a girl? And when you can’t even close your eyes and pretend it’s Ryan Gosling and not some random loser you picked up at the bar? I gave up on men years ago, and I’m not even twenty-five. Oh yeah, of course I own a vibrator, but do you know how hard it is to find good porn for someone like me?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t care how much of a stud you are. I’m not going to be your fucking ego boost.”

“Am I interrupting something?” It’s Lorelei, standing in the doorway, holding a tray of mojitos. 

“No,” says Verity, standing up. “I was just leaving anyway.”

 

* * *

 

The fifth time, he’s got Lorelei running his errands. They’re working, and as usual, they're at Verity's place. Verity has never seen Lorelei's apartment, and she's fairly certain she never will. They're not exactly friends, because neither of them are exactly the friendly type, but there's a mutual respect. At least that's what Verity always thought of it as. That's why she's instantly suspicious when she brings up Loki.

“Did you kiss and make up yet?” she says from the sofa where she's made herself comfortable with a glossy magazine.

Verity’s fingers slip over the keyboard. “What?”

"I couldn't help but overhear your little lover's spat the other day.”

Verity doesn't turn away from the screen. Loki is somewhere on the other end of that ethernet cable, and she's guiding him through a security system. No illusions this time - she just happens to be the best they've got at this. "Yeah, well," she says, eyes flickering across the screen, unseeing. "I wouldn't call it that."

"It's a terrible idea, getting involved with him, I agree. One time, however..."

Verity narrows her eyes, then slowly swivels her chair around. "How much did he pay you?"

Lorelei gives her a sad smile. "Darling, I’m a professional. I only discuss fees with clients.”

For a few seconds, she’s left speechless. ”What kind of an idiot..?” she finally manages. “Did he not think I'd..? What? _What?_ " The laptop bleeps. She looks back at the screen. He's waiting for instructions. She flexes her fingers, but can't bring herself to start typing. Then she looks at Lorelei again. "What a dick!"

Lorelei rises and grabs her bag. "For the record, he really does have a thing for you."

"Did he pay you to say that, too?"

"Yes, but it's also true." She picks up the site plan lying on the desk next to Verity. Stealing it was Lorelei's part. 

"I still need that," says Verity.

Lorelei shuts the lid of the laptop, effectively leaving Loki in the dark. "AT&T are having some connectivity issues," she says in a businesslike manner. "I'll tell Loki once he worms his way out of that rat's nest."

Verity stares at her. "I... Thank you."

Lorelei pats her on the shoulder. "This one's on the house, sweetie."

 

* * *

 

An orgasm is a series of muscle contractions. In the aftermath of climax, oxytocin is released, leaving one relaxed and satisfied. For women, orgasm is most easily reached through stimulation of the clitoris. Verity knows this. She's known it since she first read it in a textbook when she was twelve. Like any scientist worth her name, she conducted experiments with herself as a test subject. She found the results affirmative but slightly unsatisfactory. Most of all, it was hard work. 

Verity knows there are people who can achieve orgasm easily, even without physical stimulation, through fantasizing about sex, or reading stories about it, imagining themselves in place of the protagonist. For her, that’s not an option. If there's one person whose lies she wishes she could believe, it's her own.

On the night of their little heist, she has trouble going to sleep. She tucks her phone under the mattress to stop herself from checking it. Loki hasn't been in touch, and she wonders why. Maybe he's not home yet. Maybe he's pissed. When she finally drifts off, she dreams of the incident in the keep, where Loki shielded her with his body. 

She's never had a sex dream before. There might have been dreams about sex, but recollections of partners past are seldom arousing, and her dreams are always very, very particular. She can’t recall ever dreaming anything not real, but she honestly can't remember feeling this aroused when it actually happened. It’s as if the dream state and the knowledge that it all ended well allows her to delve deeper into her emotions, and beneath all the fear and adrenaline-fueled excitement, she’s horny. She relives those seconds in slow motion, each heave of his warm chest against her a moment stretched in time, a series of bright technicolor picture frames, floating by lazily. She can feel her body respond to the forced intimacy. When she swallows, she can taste metal, and each heartbeat reverberates through her shoulders and thighs. And then he pushes close, and she feels his hardon, pressed against her hip. The gasp that escapes her echoes in the silence. _Holy sh-_

She wakes up on the brink of coming. In her sleep-addled state, she sits up and looks around, unsure what's going on. Then she feels the pounding between her legs.

"What the fuck," she mutters, and shoves her hand under the sheets.

After a few minutes of diligent rubbing with no result, she rolls over on her side, frustrated and utterly unsatisfied. She wonders what happened. This is the first time she's ever woken up in a state of arousal, and after a good while of turning the conundrum over in her head, of going over what she did before going to sleep, she remembers the dream. It's like a gut punch. She flops down on her back again and plays the memory over in her head. Over and over. In less than a minute, she's digging her heels into the mattress as she feels her muscles pulse rhythmically around her fingers.

Verity can go weeks, even months, without. Last time she was in the mood, the vibrator had been left under her bed for so long that she had to wipe the dust off the lid of the box. These past few days, though, it's seen more action than Chuck Norris. It’s all Loki’s fault. Loki and his stupid erection is keeping her up late at night. And in bed late in the mornings. And once locked in the bathroom of Starbucks. She’s like a fourteen year old boy without the pimples and the funny voice. For the first time ever, she’s got something real, something that’s hers, that makes her horny. Unfortunately, it’s also driving her up the walls.  The memory that triggers her is maddeningly brief. It’s also cut short, and her inability to visualize what might have followed makes her want to tear her hair out. For some reason, climaxing feels - while easier than ever - disappointing. 

On the fourth evening since the dream, she begins examining her situation more critically. It’s a busy day. In the morning, a contact phones and asks a favor. It’s the kind of favor that pays the rent for the next couple of months, and she accepts without hesitation. Out on location, there’s no room for alone time, and on the way home, she has reading to do that keeps her thoughts busy. But the moment the security chain is in place, she lets her mind wander. She goes in the shower, and as soon as she’s warm she lowers the showerhead and leans against the wall. Closing her eyes doesn’t make much of a difference, but she does it anyway. Her free hand slides down her belly, but before she can make it to the sweet spot, she stops herself and frowns. Is this really going to be the pinnacle of her sex life? A seven second memory that enables her to spice up the otherwise mechanical act of masturbating? The words of Lorelei echo in her head. _No, the words of Loki_ , a small voice inside her head corrects her, but she shrugs it off. _One time…_

She towels her hair dry and puts on a t-shirt and panties. Then she picks up her phone. He still hasn’t been in touch, but thanks to a perfunctory message from Lorelei, she knows he’s alive and well. After a few minutes of debating it, she decides that her need is currently greater than her pride.

 

_ Today 21.47  _

Let’s have sex.

 

Once she’s sent it, she half regrets it. Then she spots some elastic dangling from her panties, and goes to the bedroom to change. Rifling through her drawer, she can’t seem to find anything remotely sexy, and settles for the newest pair she’s got. Glancing at her phone, she can see that her text has been both delivered and read. She keeps staring at the screen, touching it every now and then to keep it from dimming. A minute passes, then two, then five. Nothing. She can feel herself flush in anger. Obviously, this has been a joke all along, and she’s been the punchline.

“Verity?”

She spins around to find Loki in the doorway. Her blush deepens. She may be in her best underwear, but she’s also in the oversized, washed-out old thing she usually sleeps in.

“What the hell?” she hisses, pulling the t-shirt down over her thighs. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Ah, yes, but I didn’t come through the door,” he says.

“What? That’s the worst excuse ever!”

“I figured it was urgent.”

“I’m not even dressed!”

“All the better.”

She sighs, and pulls her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get rid of the worst tangles, then walks - with as much dignity as she can muster - past him and into the kitchen. There’s half a bottle of white wine in the fridge, and she pours herself some. “You?” she asks, nodding at the bottle.

“No,” he says, then cocks his head. “Were you joking with that text?”

Verity drinks deep, then shakes her head. “Not if you weren’t.” She doesn’t wait for a reply, and turns around to fill her glass again, but before she can pick the bottle up, Loki grabs her from behind. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” He runs one hand up her t-shirt to grab at a breast, and the other down her towards her panties, where he hesitates. She puts her hand on his, encouraging him to go on, then gasps and throws her head back against his chest as he slips a finger inside her. “All warmed up,” he says, and she can hear him grinning. 

“It was urgent,” she says when she catches her breath again. He leaves her pussy alone for the moment, grabbing her hips and pressing his hardon into the small of her back, and already, her inspirational material has more than doubled. With fumbling hands, she reaches behind her to try and unbutton his jeans.

“Here?” he asks. “On the kitchen table? It _is_ a good height…”

“I don’t care where,” she says, tugging uselessly at his t-shirt. “Just…” She tries to turn around, but instead, Loki pushes down on her shoulders until she’s bent over the table. He slides her panties down halfway, and she makes the effort to ease one leg out, leaving them hooked around her other ankle. He’s running his hands over her back, down her sides and thighs, then back up to grab at her ass, and she feels a rush of anticipation soar through her belly. He leans over her, and now they’re skin against skin, his cock resting against her ass. Verity grinds almost reflexively against it, but he doesn’t move.

“I’m very strong,” he says. “And it’s been a long time. I need you to tell me if–,”

“I will,” she says, panting. “But I can’t tell you to stop if you haven’t even started.”

When he pushes into her, he says something in a language she can’t understand, and she answers with an incoherent strand of expletives. 

“Is that holy shitfuck good, or holy shitfuck bad?” he asks in a strained voice as he pulls back again.

“Good,” she manages. “Oh my… _fuck_.”

He’s heavy. Not only that, but dense somehow, and she’s glad he’s not actually on top of her. He feels big, bordering on uncomfortable, but then it’s been a long time since she’s been with anyone else. Loki digs his fingers into her hips, and she whines, half from pleasure, half from pain. This could get rough, and something flares hot in her belly at the thought. With each thrust the table rocks violently, grating against the kitchen floor, and she grabs the sides of it, for her sake, and the neighbors’. She can’t move much, but right now, it doesn’t matter. She has other things on her mind. Sleepless nights are at stake, and she's determined to make this memory a good one.

“Not so fast,” she says.

Loki makes a disapproving noise, but slows his pace. She edges further up on the table until she can enjoy the friction against her clit. It feels good now. Very good.

“Tell me what you like,” says Loki.

“Boobs,” she says in a short voice. She rarely has a hand left over for them on her own, and when Loki reaches around to squeeze one, it’s like an electric shock, making her toss her head back and let out a loud moan.

“I think I like them, too,” he says, squeezing harder.

“Careful,” she gasps.

“I am being careful,” he says, but he releases his hold on her a little. “Remind me to get you some apples,” he says then.

She wants to slap him for talking, but now she has to ask. “What?”

He pauses and leans down. “With the strength of an Asgardian,” he says quietly, “I won’t have to hold back.” On the last word, he thrusts hard, and the table screeches against the floor.

Verity grits her teeth and tightens her grip. “Well, that’s not going to happen so you might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

Loki stops again, and she wishes she’d kept her mouth shut. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” she says. “Less talking, more fucking.”

Fortunately, he doesn’t argue. By now, she’s adjusted to him, and somehow, everything feels amazing. His hands wander, from tweaking her nipples just a little too hard, to raking his nails down her back in a way that makes her skin prickle, to holding her waist when she tells him “harder”. She pushes up on her elbows, and he bites into her shoulder so hard that she yelps and kicks his shin. When the pain subsides, she feels so sensitive she has to lift her ass up to keep herself from getting overstimulated. Something below her belly begins to tighten and she realizes that by some miracle, she’s close to coming. Loki, misinterpreting her raised behind, reaches around to use his fingers on her.

“No!” she says, pushing his hand away. “Just keep…”

He listens, and dutifully obeys. She can hear his breathing coming in stutters and then he pushes her down on the table again. Her t-shirt has ridden up, and her naked breasts press against the hard surface. Seconds later, she’s yelling something. Maybe it’s words, maybe it’s just noises. After the first overwhelming surge, she simply moans over and over until she can feel her legs shaking from the effort of standing up. At some point, Loki has stopped moving, letting her have her moment.

“Are you fertile?” he asks in a strained voice.

“What?” she mumbles.

“I don’t want to get you with child.”

She tries to count the days since her last period, which isn’t easy when you’re face down on your kitchen table enjoying the afterglow of the orgasm of a lifetime. “I don’t know,” she says. “Better not risk it.”

“No,” he says, then pounds into her twice more, sending pleasant aftershocks through her, before pulling out. He groans, and she feels him spill over her back in spurts before slumping over her, nearly crushing her with his weight. She lets him lie there, breathing hard against her neck, until her lungs ache for air, and then she pushes him away.

 

After she's freshened up, she grabs her wine and a beer for Loki and lays back on the sofa. He's sitting in her armchair, naked and with his legs shamelessly spread. Some part of her tells her she should find this awkward, but it's easier to just give in to the relaxed warmth making her body heavy and boneless. Her movements feel oddly slow, and the wine is going to her head far too quickly.

"What made you change your mind?" he asks after a while.

She shrugs, then snorts a little laugh. "Do you want the truth?"

"Always."

"Masturbation fodder," she says.

He gives her a curious look. "Go on."

And she tells him. The whole story, in a droning, dispassionate voice. When she gets to the part about the dream, she can see Loki's eyes darken, and when she's finished, her gaze drops and her heart skips a beat when she sees his cock is half hard again.

“One time?” he asks, tapping his fingers on the armrest.

“One time,” she repeats. “Because this,” she points to herself, and then to him, “is a seriously bad idea.”

He leans forward. “One time or one night?”

She gives a little laugh. “That’s not… I mean, you’re welcome to stay the night, but I don’t think I could–,”

“Of course you could. One time or one night?”

“Semantics,” she says, waving her hand dismissively. “I asked and you delivered.”

"And was it...satisfactory?" he asks. "Did you get what you wanted?” He sounds almost worried.

"Are you fishing for compliments?"

"Of course I am. From what I understand I'm basically a glorified dildo, used and abused, so I'll take whatever I can get."

“You poor baby," she says. He gives her a lopsided smile, and she decides to indulge him. “Well, congratulations. You win. You’re the only one who's made me come. And you were right. The best fuck I've ever had. Going by my usual standards, I’m good for a lifetime.”

He looks like a cat in a creamery. "Show me," he says then.

"Show you what?"

"I want to see you pleasing yourself while you think of us."

That sends a nervous jolt through her belly, but she finds she likes the thought of it. "Why?" she asks.

"If this is truly the only time, I want something to remember you by. Same as you."

"You're a bad, bad person."

"I don't deny it."

"I blame this," she says and raises her glass, then drains it before putting it on the floor.

She slides down a little to make herself comfortable, then edges her hand into her panties. It's a weird experience. For some reason, it seems like a more intimate act than what they did not half an hour earlier. She feels exposed and uncertain. As she begins moving her hand, Loki leans back and rests a foot on his knee. He's watching her intently, as if thoroughly engrossed in a tv show. 

"Take off your top," he says.

She can't think of a good reason not to, and the garment is hardly flattering, so she pulls it over her head. By now, she's cooled off, and the air feels chilly against her naked skin. Her nipples stiffen as she shivers, and she's not sure it's because of the shift in temperature, or because of Loki's gaze roaming her chest.

"Better?" she asks.

"Your breasts truly are lovely," he says. 

“Just the breasts?"

"Now who's fishing for compliments? Touch yourself again."

She does, and she can't help but feel as inexperienced as a teen, caressing herself slowly, experimentally. She wishes she'd watched more pro porn; she has no idea how to make this look good. 

"That's not how you do it alone," he says after a while.

She pulls her hand away and glares at him. "Do you want something to jerk off to or not?"

“You're not enjoying yourself. What were you thinking about?"

"Look, this stuff is private."

"I'll make it worth your while."

That piques her curiosity. "How?"

"Trust me. Now pretend I'm not here and please yourself."

"You know I can't do that. I know you’re here. That you’re looking."

"I'll close my eyes if you do."

"But..."

"My hearing is excellent."

She takes a deep breath. Loki closes his eyes, and for a while, she keeps hers open to make sure he's keeping his promise. Then she thinks back to what they did on the table, and has to stifle a whimper. It was good then, and it's almost as good now. She buries two fingers deep inside her pussy, still slick and tight from earlier, rubbing her clit with the other hand. She thinks back to her breasts grinding against the table, to the hot trickle down her back as he slumps over her. The build-up of her climax starts remarkably quickly, and she wonders if she should slow down and drag it out. That thought snaps her back to reality, and she looks up. Loki is looking right back, and she freezes.

"Don't stop," he says.

"You _said-_ ," she begins, hot with shame as she realizes just how engrossed in her memories she had been. 

"I never said for how long. Keep going." His voice is commanding in a way she's never heard before, but he also sounds horny as fuck, so she obeys.

This time, she makes herself lock eyes with him, and after a while, everything else blurs until it's just her, chest heaving and fingers working desperately, and him, gaze burning into her. When she comes, it’s with a stifled scream, legs stiff and toes curled. Once it’s subsided, she closes her eyes and lets out a long, slow sigh, feeling herself go limp.

“Many thanks,” says Loki.

“Fuck off,” she says, but can't help but smile.

He stands up and walks over to the sofa. “As you can see, I very much enjoyed that.”

She can see. “And how will you make it worth my while?” she asks.

Loki sits down next to her. “If what we did earlier was the best sex you’ve ever had, we have a serious problem, because I was _terrible_ ,” he says. “I’ve got one night to convince you that doing this again is a good idea, and I intend to make the most of it.”

It’s _not_ a good idea. Nothing about this is a good idea, but she can’t help but wonder… “How?” she asks again.

“We have so many things left to try, Verity,” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “We haven’t even kissed yet.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Concrit is very welcome. This has not been beataed, and I'm not a native speaker, so feel free to point out any mistakes!


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